Frozen Tears
by NuttyScribbler
Summary: A collection of Bleach One-Shots. Pairings: HitsuHina, IchiRuki and etc. Common Characteristics: Short and Spoilerful, often without a Storyline.
1. Frozen Tears

**Disclaimers: I do not own Bleach; period.**

**Spoilers: Manga Chapters 169 – 171. Read at your own risk.**

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She wanted to live, she realised as she lay there, breathing shallow. Her body was cold, ice-cold against the warm blood that flowed from the wound in her chest. The coarse fabric of her shinigami-uniform absorbed it and stuck on to her, clinging like a second skin, its smell a nauseating mixture of metal and sweat. 

And tears.

The pain in her chest was immense; she was not sure if it was physical or mental. Her limbs would not obey her. Somehow, she knew that he meant for her to die like this – to die a painful death – with the ghosts of her thoughts, anger and regrets ushering her into oblivion for eternity.

He had smiled at her, full of warmth and paternal affection. But for the first time, she saw the coldness behind his brown eyes and the way his lips twisted the usually beatific smile into a cruel smirk. Perhaps they were that way all along, but she had been just too wilfully blind to notice it.

It was cruel. Her blind devotion towards him vanished as she teetered on the precipice, about to fall into darkness. He chose not to give her a quick death, one without time to ponder over lost chances and past disappointments, one without time to curse her own stupidity or blame him for his betrayal, one without time to regret the fact she could not apologised to someone before she faded away.

Closing her eyes required too much effort. She always thought that one's senses would be clouded by Death's presence. Apparently she was wrong; she could sense everything around her unmoving body in stark clarity: the dried blood caking the walls, the stench of rotting flesh, the sticky substance that seeped through her clothes, the pristine white of the captains' kimono…

The flashing jade-green eyes, the troubled frown, the white hair which belied his age (he would always be a kid to her) and the shock on his face. He stood disbelieving at the door, eyes falling on her slumped body. She wanted to scream, "Run away!" but no sound came from her throat.

She watched them do battle as her life slowly ebbed away. It was short and brutal, faster than the eye could follow. In the end, she could only watch his bleeding form slump in front of her, red staining the rags of his white Captain uniform.

Her murderer was right and it was all her fault: his love for her had made him weak. It was as good as her killing him with her own two hands.

The aftermath of their battle framed the chamber in glittering crystallised water. The temperature was so cold; surely Death was finally ready to lead her away now? Even the tear halted its path down her cheek by turning into a shard of ice.

And then there was warmth. He had somehow managed to move his body beside hers and his scent of winter sunshine, snow and pine engulfed her as the last of his breath grazed her cheeks in short puffs of warm air.

She wanted to say, "I'm sorry" but she couldn't.

He seemed to understand anyway and he whispered, "Bed-wetter Momo."

Another tear slid down her cheek as she willed her gratitude in his direction, "Thank you, Shiro-chan."

And this time, it did not freeze.

* * *

**Frozen Tears**

A Series of Bleach Ficlets

Nutty Scribbler

21 Apr. 05

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Author's Notes: 

Random drabble. I thought I got over the chapters, until my friend read and started to rant about it. Couldn't resist.

Frozen Tears will be a collection of the occasional Bleach fan fictions I put out. I have a few unpublished (unpublished on anyway) fics lying around all over the place, and I'm going to work around uploading them some time soon. These are individual pieces that are intended to be read as stand alones; please don't expect them to flow continuous or in sequence of the manga chapters.

Thank you for reading. )


	2. Paperwork

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

**Spoilers: Manga Chapters 100 and 101, Prelude of the Diverging Stars and 129.**

* * *

This just officially proved it; the saying money makes the world go round is untrue – it's paperwork that makes the world go round

_Maybe not the world, just Soul Society_, he thought as he glared ominously at the tall stacks of paper before him. What a waste of good spiritrons.

He sighed – a long exhalation of air that belied his inner frustrations as he picked up a brush and dipped its fine hairs into the ink and set to work. He never liked paperwork. What is the use of all this worthless bureaucracy when everyone's well… dead? He briefly wondered how humans felt when they find out (much too late) that they cannot escape the sufferings of paperwork in the afterlife.

There are many reasons why he does not like paperwork, besides it being a blindingly obvious waste of energy and effort. He could be out there, practicing with Hyourinmaru until he got really hungry, feeling the rush of adrenaline with each blow parried…

But no, he was stuck in here doing paperwork.

He scrutinized the report in front of him. It detailed the report of two apprentice-shinigami in the Academy caught dueling illegally. A loud snort erupted from within him – there was nothing wrong with two hot headed boys letting off some steam by swinging their swords around. It was not as if they are good enough to kill somebody with the zanpaku anyway – unless it was something as stupid as slipping and impaling himself on his own sword or something.

In retrospect, he would not put it past those fools to manage such an astoundingly inane feat.

His brush paused just above the paper, wanting to tell the guy who filed such a useless report and wasted everyone's time to shove off – only less eloquently with more foul words. Then, he remembered that it was Division Five's stack of paperwork and he didn't think Hinamori would appreciate it much if he did that.

So instead of writing what he wanted to write, he wrote: _By order of Captain Hitsugaya Toushiro of the 10th division, both wrongdoers are to be sentenced to two months of detention and are to be banned from sword-fighting classes for a week. No record should be made in the Shinigami Logs. _No point ruining their futures if they do manage to graduate after all. At the end of the note, he signed his name as neatly as he could and set it onto his left hand side.

Damn Aizen, he muttered. He immediately felt slightly guilty for having such disrespectful thoughts of the late captain. He was really an okay guy, in Hitsugaya's opinion. Just a bit stiff and a weird love for paperwork, judging from the insane amount of things he demanded to be reported directly to him.

Hinamori's voice resounded in his head, a memory from long past. He had caught her struggling with her paperwork then – much like how he was struggling with her paperwork now – and he had sat down beside her and grunted that there were much better things to do than paperwork that day – like practicing with their zanpaku. She must work much harder if she hoped to achieve ban kai.

She had replied, _"Captain Aizen likes to know everything that goes on in our division because he thinks it's one of the requirements of being a good leader. Besides, you can find out a lot about the happenings in Soul Society from these reports…"_

And then, she had proceeded to a long litany about the virtues of reports and paperwork. He had allowed himself to sit there beside her, sunlight streaming through the window and listen to the sound of her voice.

His hand automatically reached for another report as soon as he finished one, like clockwork. Why was he doing this? Oh yes – he did not want her to be confronted with this monstrosity when she's finally released. It will most likely remind her of her dead leader, and send her into another fit of tears.

Stupid bed-wetter Momo, he thought silently. Why do you cry so much? Don't you know that it makes me sad when you cry?

Stupid Aizen, he thought uncharitably of his late comrade again. Why did you go and get yourself stupidly killed and leave behind so much stupid paperwork for Hina-chan? Why did you go get yourself stupidly killed and make Hina-chan cry for you?

He grunted in frustration and unconsciously applied too much pressure on his brush, thus creating a large blot on the paper. Momentarily frantic, he tugged down the sleeve of his kimono and dabbed on the paper in an attempt to lighten the stain. Hinamori did not like untidiness…

Speaking of her again, he wondered how she was feeling now. Was she hungry? Was she cold? The confinement cells can get quite chilly at night, and the shinigami uniform was really quite thin. He briefly considered going down to visit her.

He looked up from the partly ruined document, only to be cruelly reminded of his volunteer work by the remaining mountain. A loud sigh escaped his lips as he continued his tedious task late into the night.

He really hated paperwork, because it gave him too much time to think.

Especially of her.

* * *

**Paperwork**

A HitsuHina Bleach Drabble

By Nutty Scribbler

For Idiosyn's 20 themes challenge on the Kurosaki Clinic LJ community

Theme: Paperwork

Written: 19 Oct. 2004

Edited: 22 Apr. 2005

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Author's Notes:

This is one of my older works. I made some minor editions here and there today. It's probably still shot with grammar mistakes. . Constructive criticism welcomed and encouraged.

Thank you for reading,

Nutty Scribbler


	3. Irritable

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

**Spoilers: None**

**Summary: In search of less irritating activities.**

* * *

Kurosaki Ichigo is a very irritable boy.

Really; one can easily deduce that from light years away at the sight of his perpetual frown – his brows are drawn together in an eternal crease that makes him look old before his time.

Now, there are many things that irritate Ichigo. Having to wake up in the middle of the night for shinigami duties irritate him. Having people make fun of his 100 natural hair color irritated him, too. But nothing irritates him more than nagging.

Especially if it is she who is doing the nagging.

That absolutely takes the cake, because when his unwanted roommate cum otherworldly partner gets into one of her fits, she nags – a lot. She can nag from morning to night, and then from night to morning, and there is no escaping her since she lives in his closet.

Right now, she is nagging him again. He isn't really sure what he is being nagged for; he had long ago learnt how to block out the sound of her voice. It isn't that he didn't like the sound of her voice – her voice is very nice to listen to when she wasn't nagging him. Instead, he concentrates fully on the rose-red curves of her lips that shape the angry words she was heaping liberally on him.

"KUROSAKI ICHIGO! Are you even listening to me?"

It jerks him out of his reverie, that sudden increase in volume of her voice. Her dark eyes flashed with annoyances yet to be spoken, and her cheeks flush a rosy crabapple red. Long fingers absently tuck a stray lock of raven black hair behind one ear – a gesture that he finds decidedly feminine. Theoretically, it would have looked out of place on her since she is anything but feminine, but he decided he likes it anyway.

"Yare yare," he mumbles, and twirls his chair away.

"Don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you!" she screeches again.

He sighed in a long suffering manner and turned to face her again. Her lower lip sticks out in an angry pout and her hands fold across her chest, against her heaving bosom. Nagging him takes a lot out of her, more than her shinigami duties does.

Damn those lips of hers.

Suddenly, she found herself sprawled over him, on his lap with their lips interlocked. She faintly remembers him reaching out in lightning speed and pulling her down onto him before his lips came crashing on hers. But all rational thoughts flee when he drags his tongue across her lips in a slow deliberate manner.

After what seemed an eternity later, he finally releases her. She musters her best glare, and glares at him as angrily as she could from her position within the restrictive circle of his arms, "What was THAT about?"

"You were too noisy."

She glares at him harder, but he only smiles briefly in return. Her heart skips a beat and the ferocity of her glare drops a notch; he seldom smiles but he looks really handsome when the corner of his lips lifts themselves and his brown eyes twinkle.

He seized the opportunity her momentary silence offered and bent his head down to savor her lips again. This time, she melts unresistingly into his embrace.

The battle ends.

Really, he thought, her kisses are much less irritating than her nagging.

* * *

**Irritable**

An IchiRuki Bleach Drabble

By Nutty Scribbler

For Idiosyn's 20 themes challenge on the Kurosaki Clinic LJ community

Theme: Stealing Kisses

Written: 22 Oct. 2004

Edited: 22 Apr. 2005

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Author's Notes:

There were many people responding to this challenge, so I thought I might just give it a shot.

Nutty Scribbler


	4. The Five Shades of White

Um, um, I wasn't sure whether to go with footnotes, or just putting the notes directly in. Please tell me which you prefer.

**I - White is the colour of innocence, compassion, and wisdom.**

She may have lived 10 or 20 times longer than him, but her naivety never ceased to astound him. In the beginning, he felt as if he had gained a third sister, but the way she nagged made him feel like she was his mother and her occasional words of wisdom continued to throw him off balance.

Ichigo learned to appreciate the fact that within that small body, lay the heart of a child, a mother and a crone. Dammit! This still feels a little grammatically incorrect to me, but I can't figure it out. I'm kind of OC, though, so I honestly think no-one will ever notice but me… even if the grammar isn't right, it still flows really well… you could probably still go with "laid"

**II - White is the colour of pain.**

His heart jumped a little at the sight of her from his position in the air. The figures on the bridge grew bigger as he neared towards them and he could see Hanatarou and Ganjuu sprawled on the ground, her (Nyan, nyan…. It's a little confusing! There wasn't any reference to Rukia in this paragraph, so it's hard to tell who's brother it is… at first I thought you'd made a pronoun error. Umm…. Maybe just say "Rukia's" instead) cold and heartless brother standing victorious over them. But for that moment, all the other people did not matter; he saw only her and she was standing right there, looking up at him, with those large purple eyes shining with unshed tears.

He only managed to get a good look at her when he landed right in front of her. He briefly wondered (past tense! Mew, tenses are a pain, huh?) if she had shrunk. Rukia had always been petite, since she could wear Yuzu's clothes, but the girl in front of him seemed even smaller than the feisty shinigami who had slept comfortably in his closet.

Ichigo hated that/the (not sure, but both are good, so your call) pristine white garment she wore that day because it was too harsh on her complexion; it seemed to engulf her pint-size body; and she ought to be wearing sunny yellows or cheerful greens. It pained him to see how tiny, frail and _lost_ she looked in that robe hanging loosely off her thin shoulders.

Most of all, it pained him because he knew that he was the reason she looked that way.

**III - White is the colour of regret.**

Neither wanted to leave the other, yet they know that it must be done. Her place was in Soul Society, and he belonged to the realm of the living.

Ichigo strode purposefully towards the blinding white light which would return him to his world. He did not look back because he knew if he did, he would never leave without her.

Sometimes, he regretted he did not look back that day.

**IV - White is the colour of emptiness.**

His room felt less alive without her. Kon was unbearable with his incessant complaints and whining about missing 'nee-san'. He felt irritated at the plushie, because he should be the first in line with whining rights.

It was her fault that she had barged her way into his life and into his heart without his permission. So it was doubly her fault for the empty feeling within him, which throbbed painfully each time he opened the closet to get his clothes, whenever he passed by the pet shop with white rabbits displayed in the front window or whenever he walked down the street where she had left him to save his life on that rainy night. (um, which street? This reference isn't a little ambigious)

He casually tried to ask Ukitake for news of her when he came to the mortal world to check on him. The white haired man smiled, and assured him that Rukia was steadily regaining her powers in Soul Society. She would still need a bit of work (she still needed to do a bit of work?) before she regained her full powers prior to the incident, but she would make it somehow.

Ichigo tells Ukitake to say 'Hi' to her for him. Ukitake smiles understandingly at him and assures him they would meet again some day.

(Hehe, maybe you should get me to change the story to this… 'present-past tense' while I'm at it. You write it well! But this sentence is in… present-past tense, while the rest of this story is in past tense. So have a past tense version, ok?

"Ichigo told Ukitake to say 'Hi' to her for him. Ukitake smiled understandingly at him and assured him they would meet again some day.")

The orange-haired shinigami believed the older man's words. He had to; how else would he be able to carry on living with that gaping hole in his chest?

**V - White is the colour of Death.**

It seemed fitting that they would have sent her to collect his soul on his death day, a completion of a circle. He waited there in the hospital room, struggling to draw (in) breath as he awaited his final hour.

He had lived to a ripe old age and his mortal body was not what it used to be, but his soul was still young and spry. His family and friends had left him long ago, one by one, and he was the one who had performed their Soul Burials. It was painful to be the one who had sent all his (own?) loved ones on their way.

Ichigo grinned toothlessly as the black butterfly floated into his hospital room before transforming into a shinigami.

"Hey."

"You look like shit." She was always one to call a spade a spade.

"Oh yeah? I bet I can kick your ass once I get out of this shitty body." He coughed.

She smiled at him. It was just like the old times.

"We'll see about that. Are you ready?"

"Yes." He had waited his whole life for this moment.

Rukia drew her blade and gently pressed the hilt on his wrinkled forehead. The seal burned hotly into his skin and his spirit poured out of his lifeless body in a blinding white rush as he was reborn…

…and they were whole again.

The rain had finally let off.

**Epilogue**

White is the colour of everything around them, as it is the amalgam of all the other colours in the spectrum: (it represents?) pain, sadness, happiness, hope, grief, rebirth… For that reason, white is the colour of their love.

**Owari**

**ohmygaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawd 3**


	5. Shooting Stars

------  
_Maybe if I could become a comet,  
I could leap through the skies to you.  
Surely, without fail I'd reach you in this moment of light  
And your now illuminated sky will revolve.  
If I could become a comet,  
Surely, I would rise by your side,  
Whenever the time._

-Younha, _Houki Boushi_.

She lies on her back on the soft grass, her gaze affixed on the midnight sky littered with thousands of sparkling diamonds twinkling back at her. A streak of light shoots across the vast expanse of midnight black velvet above her and briefly dims the glow of its stationary brethren.

It is altogether too easy to fall in love with shooting stars. They illuminate the lives of people who see them and bring joy into heavy hearts. Even when they are long gone, the memory lives in the hearts that has seen them and continues to give them hope.

Shooting stars reminds her of him. They remind her of his blinding beauty, of his reckless and carefree nature, the happiness that his presence brings about, no matter how temporary it may be.

Ichigo is never aware of his ability to make everyone who knows him fall in love with him, even just a little bit. He did not understand his ability to inspire grudging respect, unfailing devotion and undying love from all those around him; they will move heaven and earth, shake mountains and shift seas if Ichigo desires so. If he has manipulated the people around him to his wishes, he certainly never did it consciously.

She knows all this, because she is one of those people who love him.

She wishes she could catch a shooting star, to keep it in her pocket, for it to only shine for her and her alone. But that is a selfish wish because the shooting star has a more important mission of dashing across the lofty heavens and shining for everyone else in the world.

So, instead she wishes she could be a shooting star and trail after him across the universe with him. And for them to stay together side by side, always.


	6. The Man My Mother Married

Kurosaki Ichigo never got along with his old man. He had always loved his mother more than his father, but people told him it was normal for boys to prefer their mothers to their fathers.

Ichigo never understood how Isshin's patients could like him so much. Couldn't they see that the man was crazy? How could they entrust their lives into to the hands of a man who thinks peeping under his adolescent daughter's skirt is _funny_ and goes running whilst crying to his deceased wife's poster when he's bullied, and thank him with a straight face? How could his beautiful, talented, perfect mother have married such a man?

One night when he returned late from his shinigami duties, he heard noises downstairs from his old man's study. He glanced at the clock and hands informed him it was 3 a.m. in the morning.

Feeling curious, he tip-toed downstairs as quietly as he could. It was unnecessary of course, as his Isshin did not possess any spiritual powers at all (much to Kurosaki Sr.'s eternal disappointment). But Ichigo still felt unreasonably guilty as he slipped into his father's sanctuary i.e. his office.

His father's office had always been off limits when he was younger and as he grew up after his mother's death, he lost interest in trying to sneak in. But in his memory, it was a big and sunny room and his father's desk was as tidy as a pin because his mother would clean his desk every morning.

Now, everything in the room seemed to have shrunk and the desk was covered with documents and lab reports. Ichigo watched his father take off the pair of glasses he was wearing and pinch the bridge of his nose tiredly before returning the optical aid back to its original position. The older man they sighed and as he leaned forward and studied the papers before him, before referring to the computer screen on the desk.

Ichigo felt something rise in his throat as he slipped out of the room again. He didn't know how to explain the feeling in the pit of his stomach, but all he could think was his father had looked so _old_ and _tired_ in that small and dingy room surrounded by his work.

Kurosaki Ichigo never got along with his old man and probably never will. But perhaps he began to understand why his mother married that man a little bit more that night.

He also decided he that would get his old man an autographed copy of that Don Kanonji DVD for Father's Day next week.


	7. The Threshold of Goodbye

"I guess this is goodbye. Again," Ichigo muttered without looking up.

"Yes," the corner of lips threatened to curl into a wan smile, "and we are getting surprisingly good at it."

He looks up and straight into her eyes (angry eyes - angry at her for being so flippant; angry at himself for being so helpless), and a millenium of unspoken conversations occured in that few seconds he held her gaze, mesmerised. She found herself babbling like a fool afterwards (and it was so unlike herself she could have died from embarassment), "who knows, we will meet again the next time we need to save the world from some delusional God-wannabe psychopath... Not that I want another Aizen to be raised up..."

"Rukia," he said firmly, trying not to smile himself. "I'll leave the window open."

She smiled back and waved with forced cheerfulness, before stepping across the threshold of the Senkaimon, desperately ignoring the prickling at the back of her eyes."


End file.
